Paris Day 2

Today I forced myself to go see some other sights, even though it was freezing outside and after yesterday's general sentiments, have no motivation to be reminded what I can't have in Paris. Maybe that's why the first stop I found myself at was the catacombs. I paid my 4 Euros and descended into the depths of Paris. For those of you that don't know, the catacombs are essentially a massive cemetery that extends for kilometres in every direction--right underneath the streets of Paris. You head down into a dimly lit tunnel with musty stone walls and walk about 500 m until you reach the first part. Doing that alone is a little more than unnerving, let me tell you. All the side passages are barred off and dark; it's deathly still (pun intended) for the most part, but every sound you do hear makes you jump a little. It felt like a really well put-on haunted house!
Then I got to the bones. Oh yeah, these aren't nicely laid out tombstones; they are stacks of human bones lining the passageways. To deal with overcrowding in cemeteries during the 18th century, people started getting buried in these passages, since you could shove more bodies together, thus saving space. Pretty morbid, but the organization is impressive--all similarly shaped bones are stacked together, separated by rows of skulls (for support? Who knows, I definitely did not come up with this idea).

After the catacombs, I meandered over to Notre Dame to take a look at some gargoyles. (The last time I was here, I had cut my foot really badly in India just prior, and couldn't walk. All I remember is my mom piggybacking me around Paris, and in particular, up the tower of Notre Dame so I could see the little creatures protruding from the stone facade. Thanks mom!)
It was nice, and in some ways reminded me of Gaudi's work, but traditional--his is warped, versus the classic medieval lines seen here. I could just imagine what it must've been like when this church was the centre of religious life in Paris--it's pretty impressive, the details that went into its construction.
Next stop was the Champs d'Elyses, the world's biggest...roundabout? I'm not sure of the significance, since I refused to pay to go to the top of a tall structure and look out over another city. But I got my photos! And saw some breakdancing in the meantime, so it wasn't a total waste of time.
Lastly, I made my way over to the Piece de Resistance, the Eiffel Tower. Also known as the giant asparagus by non-impressed Parisians, the tower was originally supposed to be covered, but someone quashed that idea and now we have what it looks like today. It's impressive and blah blah blah but I'm gonna go ahead and bet that lying on the grass solo is not as much fun as with your sweetheart. I was getting bored and frozen so I waited just until the tower sparkled at sunset (they do something cool with the lights) and got the heck outta there. One can only stare at a giant asparagus for so long!
Another thing that was disappointing was my quest to cook at Le Cordon Bleu was quashed...I emailed them last week enquiring about a tour or one of the many day classes they offer...but everything was full, for every single day I could possibly be in Paris. I guess it's not meant to be, but still! Frustrating.

So it turns out Paris is not like Carrie's version in Sex and the City. This city is dangling a carrot in front of my nose--I can see what my visit COULD entail, if I was on my honeymoon, or in 15 years when I have a ton of money, spending extravagantly on nice restaurants, shopping, and fancy hotels, but nearing the end of my four month travels, that is not in the cards for BackpackKat. I did not get a suite at the Four Seasons, nor did I gallivant around town wearing a $20,000 dress. No trans-atlantic professions of love. I wore jeans and sneakers. I ate at McDonald's. I saw the sights. And I can't wait to leave.

Tomorrow I am going to MUNICH for Oktoberfest! I'm so excited to see all my german friends, I think there's 25 of us from all over Germany meeting up this weekend? It's gonna be epic. Au revoir, soul-sucking Paris! Time to become German!

Je N'aime Pas Paris

Whoever said Paris is for lovers was correct. What they failed to mention is that it is downright depressing to visit as a party of one. There are couples everywhere. Dinner specials for two. Honeymoon hotel packages. Blech. What's wrong with taking myself to Paris, hmm? I slept for 14 hours in an effort to rid myself of the cold that half of Europe seems to have, but woke up in time for breakfast. After getting yelled at by the French cafeteria lady for taking the wrong tray (apparently there is a big difference between lunch and breakfast, so you'd better get it right!), I got ready to head out for the day--the hostel locks you out of your room from 12-3 pm so they can clean. A little severe to actually have a lockout, but no matter. To the Louvre!
Channeling my inner Robert Langdon outside the Louvre.
I spent 6 hours exploring the vast array of exhibits, and I gotta tell ya...at least for the Egyptian exhibits, it was cooler seeing the same stuff in Cairo. Felt more authentic, if that makes sense. Ew, I sound so snobby. But it's true! And nothing was behind glass there.
Really, France, that's the best you can do?
At the Louvre, though, the Greco-Roman sculptures were outstanding, one of the finest collections I've ever seen.. aside from a security scare that required the evacuation of the entire wing, it was a great way to lose a few hours. The crowds were out in full force but the lines moved quickly. I almost walked right by Venus de Milo until I realized what it was, and then I got in line just like everyone else to ogle the masterpiece.
The Mona Lisa, however, was just a zoo. Totally ruins any attempt to marvel when you're being herded. It's on its own wall, behind thick panes of plexiglass, and it's tiny. I elbowed my way to the front, snapped a few pics, and got the hell out. I'll take lesser-known works any day if it means I can be in a room by myself to ponder. There will be no impending nuptuals to a Grimaldi, a la Gossip Girl. Unlike Blair Waldorf, the closest proposition I got at the Louvre was from the aging security guard who inquired about taking me for coffee (I politely declined). After I exhausted my ability to absorb new artwork for the day, I took a leisurely stroll by the Seine, saw the Eiffel Tower in the distance, then headed to McDonald's for some free wifi to catch up on the blog. Tomorrow I'm debating doing a bike tour of Paris--sounds kind of fun! I've decided against going UP the tower--much better photos with it in the background anyways, and then it's free!

Fake It Til You Make It

Ah yes, the famous casino. I struggled mightily with this dilemma: I want to appear cool, calm, and natural--like I belong inside. But I also need photos in front of the building, cause at the end of the day, I am a tourist (for now...). What to do? In the end, the photos gave precedence and I allowed myself to take a very short few--didn't bother to check the results of whoever I gave my camera to--which resulted in shoddy camera work at best. So I have lots of good photos of the casino itself, but none in focus of me in front. You'll just have to take my word for it that I was there, and I was determined to blend in.
The best of the lot. I'll just have to pop down to the Beacon Hall parking lot when I get home to work some photoshop magic--thanks in advance for the use of your car, Mr. Iwai! (kidding, of course)
Entry to the casino floor is 10 Euros, so I quickly paid and handed my technology over to coat check--no cameras, phones, or iPads allowed inside. Very exclusive. I was happy because a) it's coat check in Monte Carlo, I'm pretty sure that means my stuff will be safe, and b) this necessarily removed all airs of tourist from my person. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Walking into a place like that alone is very intimidating, I'm not going to lie to you. Especially when you've never been to a casino before. The gilded ceilings, the dealers in tuxedos at the tables beckoning you over, the slots hidden at the back like a reluctant afterthought (for the tourists, I'm sure--no yacht owner would be caught dead pumping euro coins into a machine that lights up, how plebeian). It's a lesson in creating self-confidence even when you don't have any, that's for sure. I did a few rounds to familiarize myself with the layout and was going to get a drink, but then I saw the prices and almost died. When a beverage costs more than the entry (they started at 16 Euros for a glass of wine, I believe), it's probably a good idea to pass.

The tables are laid out in a circle facing outwards, and there are about eight chairs around each. You can play roulette, blackjack, or something else I didn't know. There's velvet ropes separating the players from the observers. I was happy to remain behind the rope, but reminded myself I didn't come here to watch like the rest of the tourists. That doesn't count as going to the casino! So if I'm going to do something, I'd better not half-ass it. Not having a clue how to play, I found myself at the roulette table.

Roulette is an interesting game because there's no skill involved; the ball drops completely randomly each and every time. Yet people can't help but look for patterns--the house posts the last ten numbers, even though it doesn't matter at all. I deciphered that you can bet on red or black, odd or even, manqué or passé (under or over 18), a single number, or combinations. Colors seemed like a good place to start--you don't win a huge amount, but you have aa 50/50 shot at doubling your money, so I changed 20 Euros and got to work.

The dealers were really helpful--they explained the basics of the game, and they kept giving me free 24-Euro glasses of champagne and chocolate marzipan (it was a gamble itself on whether I would have to pay, but I figured I'd take my chances. Good call, Katy). Apparently I'm a high-roller. I went with it. I think they were trying to keep me at the table; the crowd seemed to follow whichever table I sat at. NO idea why--it's not like I was gambling thousands on number 11, unlike SOME people at the table...(it's amazing to see the volume of money that changes hands so quickly. I saw a guy lose 20 thousand euros on a single play, and then win 50 the next) On second thought, maybe they were actually following him around...that still doesn't explain the free champagne though--oh well, I'm not complaining.
Me doing my best to blend in...the free champagne tells me I did alright!
There are really eccentric characters that come to the Monte Carlo casino. I sat beside an octogenarian named Marcel who would gamble his chips "pour vous"; an aged Asian lady named Tata who brought me quiche and Monaco's answer to pizza, because she didn't want me having champagne on an empty stomach; an Italian with a blue sport coat Robert Herjavec would die to wear, who insisted on betting my birthday (which turned out to be a bad idea, he lost quite a lot--sorry about that!)

It was really fun to have a seat at the table, even though I was making tiny bets (the minimum was 5 Euros). I could see all the tourists in their clothes brought specifically for this night, failing miserably to blend in. Have a little respect for this institution! If I can manage to fit in at the casino while backpacking the world, there's no excuse for your sneakers. It reminds me of when I go to the ballet--you don't HAVE to dress up to go, if you buy a ticket they'll let you in with jeans on, but it's traditional! Put on the damn suit.

Someone told me you should never gamble with money you can't stand to lose, so once I doubled my money, I put 20 Euros worth of chips away so that I would at least walk away breaking even. Smart move. I was all the way up to 100 Euros in profit, but I kept playing and lost it all except an extra 20, so I decided to call it a night while I still had money and headed home. My first night at the casino was a success. I can't wait to go back there when I have millions of my own money to play with! I'll always remember getting my James Bond on in Monte Carlo. Even if I didn't meet any royalty (or maybe I did and just didn't know it--in Monaco, you never know!)

Nice is Nice

Could I really title this any other way? We all know how much I love bad jokes.
This morning I slept in after that lengthy journey along the Mediterranean, and tried to say hello to my bunkmates only to discover Barcelona has stolen my voice.
Port of Nice
I took advantage of the free breakfast (seriously I need to stop writing about this, it's just a given at this point), got going early afternoon and headed down to the port. I saw more yachts than minivans in a Walmart parking lot. Got offered no less than 3 jobs aboard. The offers were definitely too good to be true--I suspect the uniform is a bikini and sunglasses. At most. Thanks, Octopussy, but I'm going to have to pass. (Really, that's the name of his boat. Parked right next to "Just For You, Love Douglas." Classy.) Really tempted to ask them what they do in order to have a yacht; I figure there's three possibilities: something risky, something illegal, or both. Either way is fascinating, but I don't fancy involuntarily becoming a part of a drug cartel's harem. Saw a wedding--everyone in attendance was good looking. Confirmed my suspicions about the French Riviera being a magical place that I need to live in. I found Narnia! Just kidding. But seriously.

Nice is a cool town because it has both the sophistication and culture I love about a lot of cities, yet it has that laid-back vibe that you need once in a while. Looking into cooking schools here immediately--if they have a good one, I'm sold. Met up with the Aussies from Darwin at my hostel for happy hour (dolla beers!) Then went downtown to Wayne's, the most popular bar in Nice. Full of foreigners (and Snoop Dogg, who apparently has partied at Wayne's too) including a Contiki tour group. I'm so glad I decided not to do one of those--apparently you spend all your time traveling and only stop at sights for like 5 minutes before you're herded back on the bus. Can you imagine being stuck on a bus with a group of people you hate, going all over Europe? They did look like they were having a good time, though; there was a lot of dancing on tables. After establishing that Sarah Palin is not the only one with geographical troubles (Apparently there are some Aussies who think Alaska is part of Canada), we split from Wayne's and walked along the coast to Ma Nolan's to check out the Irish offerings in France. It was very chill--they played some great Kings of Leon tracks. I had to leave at 1:30 to make the last tram home. So glad to be back on a normal night schedule, you have no idea--maybe my voice will come back now.

Musings on Monaco

Today I took the short 20 minute train ride from Nice to Monaco. It was the main reason I came all the way down here so I had high expectations! I got to the port around 4 pm and walked along the shore. I saw so many rich (Euro) stereotypes. Long hair, tennis racket, old dudes with women half their age (although all the plastic surgery says otherwise), triple decker yachts, Rolls Royces parked in a row at the casino. Monte Carlo has one of the highest prices of real estate per square foot in the world-I can only imagine what a one bedroom would cost here. There are tourists everywhere, so naturally I refuse to walk with my camera blatantly visible in an effort to look local. After all, I didn't come to Monaco to look Canadian!

The Art of Macarons

French cooking class in the morning--learned how to make macarons! Not to be confused with macarOOns, these pastries are light, fluffy, and delicious--they'd better be, considering they consist of butter, sugar, and egg whites. Yum. I definitely don't like the precision required to bake things though--I'll be sticking to savoury cooking back at home. But when in France...
The chef walked us step-by-step through the process, although it was more of a demonstration than a hands on experience, since there were so many people in the class. I did get to pipe a few macarons onto the baking tray, however! And we got to keep some of the finished product at the end, which, let's be real, is obviously the most important thing anyway.

Went into town in the afternoon to try and deal with my Paris plans--apparently it's super expensive there so I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for that. Every hostel seems to be booked, even though it's the middle of the week--I don't get it! And the highest rated one that is showing up in my searches is 66%. Yuck. Looks like I may have to spring for a hotel...in one of the priciest cities in the world. Lucky me. Note to future travelers: do not put western Europe at the END of your trip when you are running out of money! Do it first! (and save in India--it's what I should have done. Boo.)

I also tried salad Nicoise at the hostel--I am in Nice, after all! It was SO delicious I forgot to take a photo. I will definitely be incorporating it into my rotation at home! That's about it--I'm exhausted from trying to figure out what I want to do about Paris. Definitely not designed for backpackers I think. Not ones who have seen Sex and the City, anyway.

Mediterranean, You're Kind Of Big

Sept 16:I'm going to refrain from the joke here; it's too obvious....thatswhatshesaid. Okay! Moving on. Today was a travel day to Nice. I left at 8 am after not going to bed the night before, so sick, and had to change trains every couple of hrs so couldn't sleep at all. Got to Montpellier and had to buy new reservation for train from there to Nice, since they wouldn't do it for me in Spain. Of course, the train I need is full, so I have to wait two hours til the next (non-reserved) train departs. I met two Aussies from Darwin who were doing the same thing, so we navigated the rest of the trip together.

The last train from Marseilles was really sketchy--no light, so were just sitting in the pitch black with strangers going through tunnels. Brought back memories of my favorite travel movie, Eurotrip. Mi scusi! We finally arrive in Nice at about 10:30 pm, only for me to realize my pouch containing my sunglasses and phone is missing. Shit. Back to the train I go! I couldn't remember exactly where we were sitting since it was no reservation, so I searched. Every. Single. Compartment. Hoping the train wouldn't start moving while I was still on board. At last, I found it! Fallen between two seats. Mon Dieu!

I called the hostel which told me to take the tram to a certain stop, where their shuttle would pick me up. I finally arrived and collapsed into bed--folks, the med is a lot bigger than you may realize if traveling by train! 15 hrs is not fun, especially on zero hours of sleep.

Gaudi Crush

Me in front of Casa Batllo - about a block from the hostel
Today was my last day in Barcelona, so I got up in time for a Gaudi walking tour. We saw some amazing stuff by Gaudi--his first ever job, designing a lamppost (that has a suspiciously similarity to the Snitch in Harry Potter), Casa Batllo, Casa somethingelse (where 2 floors are still apartments that will run you a paltry 25,000 Euros a month), Palau Guell, etc.
The one with expensive apartments--I would die to get a look inside!

Gaudi's first-ever job: creator of the Snitch for JK Rowling
Turns out this was the biggest group they've ever had (62 people!) so it was a little hard to hear. Combine that with having to take the subway twice and naturally, I lost the group during a bathroom/coffee break at Starbucks. I met up with them again at la sagrada familia though, just in time for the end of the tour. Good thing it was free! A bunch of us decided to grab some food after that, so we set off in search for non-touristy tapas.
The offerings from lunch... We finally found a place with no English or photos on the sign outside, which we took as a positive. Once inside we discovered there were no menus--great! How much more authentic can you get? Turns out not speaking Spanish was a bit of a problem, because our order got lost in translation and we ended up with 5 of the worst steak frites I've ever seen in my life. Mine was actually beef jerky. Luckily, the entire debacle only cost us 7 euros each (including drinks) so we cut our losses and made plans to meet up for better tapas at dinner.
Barcelona from the top of Parc Guell!
In the afternoon, I made the trip up to Parc Guell for more Gaudi and views of the city skyline.
Me in the Parc Guell
Two things worth mentioning: A) it is a HIKE and a half to get up to the top of the hill!
B) I don't understand why 'gaudy' means cheap. If I'm correct in assuming it gets its namesake from the Spanish artist whom I've fallen in love with, there is nothing cheap about his work--today he would be one of the highest paid designers ever! Just a random musing, courtesy of yours truly (and if the two aren't related, well, you're welcome--you've just encountered your blonde moment of the day).
More Gaudi creations in the Parc

I met up with the guys from California (apparently Sacramento is now on my to-do list!) at the hostel for some drinks before dinner. Turns out there was a Tripping event at the rooftop bar that night, so it was a great chance to meet some locals and enjoy some free drinks. The atmosphere was great: sunset over the Barcelona skyline, with Casa Batllo and La Sagrada Familia both clearly visible from the roof.

I invited a fellow blogger on a whim when I noticed he was in Barcelona at the same time as me, and we had some fascinating conversations (he has seen John Mayer in his famous Borat bathing suit, and he's currently traveling the world for 9 months on $418. Impressive. He runs nerdfitness.com so check it out if you have a sec!)

We finally made our way to Tapas 24 (again for me, but it was so good, and the boys needed a lesson in proper Spanish cuisine after the debacle that was lunch!). It was a long wait but totally worth it. We had several of the same things, plus mussels, black paella (that was a new one), and a ham and cheese bikini (spanish for sandwich i guess? It was way better than it sounds).

After that we met up with some girls who are working here in Barcelona as au pairs, and we sat in the Plaza Real, talking and drinking beers that sketchy guys come up to you and sell for one euro each. seems shady but everyone does it, so I guess it's acceptable here.
The plaza

We decided to go dancing and ended up in this Jazz club that turns into 80s night after a certain time (random?). It was a lot of fun, although I really should not have stayed out til 6:30 am the night before I have a 15 hour travel day--in my defense, I didn't know it would be that long! But I had to do my last night in Barcelona justice. The sleepless night was worth the memories made...cheesy but true! Adios, Barcelona, I'll miss you!

Barcelona Day 3

September 14: I had a quiet day today, just exploring the city. I went for a 4 HR walk, stopping in a cafe for a break and to do some reading. Anyone who's interested in a new book to read, I suggest Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything. Great non-fiction read; but there's so much information packed in that you can only read a little at a time. The perfect travel companion. Really makes you think!

That night, I went to Kirin, a sushi bar that had all the food on a conveyor belt. You just took whatever you wanted and since it was all you can eat, everything cost the same! Not great but when you haven't had sushi in months, it tasted amazing. I lost my keycard somewhere that day so I had to replace it for 2 euros. Early to bed since I could feel the sore throat getting worse. Apparently I didn't just lose my voice.

How Do You Say Food in Spanish?

The menu at Tapas 24
After we couldn't stand and stare any longer, we went for lunch at Tapas 24, a restaurant by Ferran Adria of El Bulli fame (foodies will understand the significance of this--El Bulli had a 6 year waiting list until it closed this year). It was great. We got:

-Bravas (spicy fried potatoes) & guacamole (really need to remember they don't make it with avocado in Spain):

- Tandoori lamb kebabs - Foie gras burger:

- Miso-glazed peppers...
which when we ordered them seemed like a good idea, until a row of chili peppers appeared before us and we just looked at each other like "what have we done!? How the hell are we going to eat TWELVE chili peppers!" Luckily, when I took the plunge, I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of heat. Chili peppers, they were not. Impostors. But I'm not complaining--the food was delicious.

In true spanish style, I had a little siesta then shopped a bit (but decided to wait til London to buy anything, so I don't have to carry it). In the evening, the hunt for Paella was in full force. Since Mr. Zimbabwe was leaving the next day, it was my last chance to try the traditional dish (they only make it for a minimum of two people so you can't order it on your own). It is really difficult to find good paella that isn't touristy in the part of barcelona I stayed in: traditionally, paella is brown, because of the squid ink used to cook the rice (stay with me here). But restaurants will substitute saffron instead, making it yellow. That, according to our tour guide, is not real paella. But it doesn't make sense why they would do that--isn't saffron the most expensive spice in the world?

Anyways. We walked around for a bit then went for dinner at (I forget the name, dammit! It started with a C. Not important). A compromise because the tapas sounded really good, but they also made (brown) paella. We had:

- Goat cheese and honey brioche - Something with eel--found out the hard way that it is NOT the sweet, barbecued sushi variety, but a tangle of gray, slimy, tentacles. Yum. -Tuna tataki (seared tuna)

- Foie gras (again, can you tell I really like this dish?) I also discovered cava sangria (made with champagne instead of red wine) which takes things to a whole other level.
Last but not least, chicken and pork paella!
All in all, a great meal (although it still doesn't compare to Seville--I don't think I'm ever going to find tapas that will beat it, for the quality and price combined).

La Sagrada Familia

September 13:

Woke up in time for free breakfast, then decided to check out La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's piece de resistance. It. Is. Amazing. One of the architectural highlights of my entire trip. One of those places that you can't quite seem to capture the grandeur in photos (but I tried my best!) It's interesting because it's like Gaudi got bored with the style he was building part way through, and just switched tactics--the Nativity facade looks like the outside of the building is melting. Then you walk over to the Passion facade and are greeted by modernistic, Picasso-esque statues. It's very strange.
Nativity facade, possibly melting

Picasso would have sued for copyright infringement on this side of the church

The inside is incredible; he designed the columns to resemble a forest, and with the light from the beautiful stained glass windows streaming in, it's simply magical.
Some of the beautiful stained glass windows There's a prayer section in the middle of the church, but it's filled with tourists just taking photos (you have to sit to take pictures in that part, which coincidentally happens to be the best view of the ceiling).
Gaudi's impression of a forest

We sprung for the lift ticket and went up to the top of the Passion tower. Great views of Barcelona, although the skyline is remarkably unremarkable. At least I didn't walk into another gift shop (remember Vienna?).
View from the top of the church--or lack thereof!

Barcelona y Bueno

Alright. I know I'm seriously lagging in my blog posts! I have them all stored on my iPad, just can't find internet to post them all! There is not a Mcdonald's on every corner in Europe, contrary to my beliefs, so forgive the barrage of stories coming your way. There's some good ones though, I think, so it's worth the wait! ----------- September 12: Woke up running late again (obviously), and struggled to catch the 11 am train to Barcelona from Alicante. With Anselm's help, though, I race walked to the station and got there with 2 minutes to spare. Gotta hand it to him, he knows how to hustle! I also have a newfound respect for race walking, mall walkers, and any such related activities..

I got to my hostel late afternoon. Great location, on one of the richest streets in town. One block from Casa Batllo (a Gaudi creation). On my way in, guess who I run into? Mr. Zimbabwe himself--literally, in the elevator. Small world! (We met in Seville, in case you can't remember where he fits into my timeline). We reunited and went for dinner in a plaza nearby. It was very touristy and we couldn't decide on a place that looked remotely as good as the tapas we had in Seville, so we decided to sacrifice our menu for the perk of having a meal outdoors in a courtyard designed by Gaudi. As I was still recovering from the whirlwind that was Alicante, we didn't go out after, but had a leisurely stroll on La Rambla, the big pedestrian boulevard nearby.

That night, I had the craziest hostel experience to date. Turns out that in my 12 person dorm, it is me, one other guy, and 10 soccer hooligans from Italy who are in town for the big match vs. Inter Milan tomorrow. Well. They come back from wherever really late, making a ton of noise, turning lights on, slamming doors, etc, just being really disrespectful of the two of us who were already in bed. I tolerate it silently, but the guy in the bunk underneath me starts yelling at them. "Keep it down! Some of us are trying to sleep! Did you even pay to be in here? You don't have sheets on your bed!" Etc. Now clearly this is not the smartest thing to say to a drunk person, let alone ten of them. They go silent and for a moment and I think wow, maybe the scolding actually worked! Then I hear a stream of liquid being poured onto something near our bunk. THEY'RE PEEING ON HIS STUFF!

Oh my goodness. I lay there, rigidly frozen, PRAYING they at least got the stuff right and didn't do mine by mistake! Can you imagine that happening to you?! Ugh just the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen! He complained and I never saw them again, so I can only assume they were kicked out (and rightly so).

Great (albeit interesting) start to my time in Barcelona--I'm loving this city already--minus the soccer hooligans.

Alicante

When this is your campus, no wonder so many people choose to go to school here!
I arrived in Alicante right on schedule and my friend Anselm was waiting to pick me up at the station. I've known Anselm since we were little kids, and he's actually from Germany, but is on exhange to study medicine in Spain for the year, so my visit worked out well. We wound our way through the narrow streets to his apartment, which is in a bright turquoise building near the Mercado, or market. Great location!

Let me explain a little about Alicante. It's a university town, so there's a ton of students there. There's this little program called Erasmus, which is an exchange for European students, and Alicante happens to be a popular destination--there are over 1500 students from other countries here. With the weather and the beaches, it's no wonder. This weekend happened to be their frosh week--I picked a good time to come, eh?

Spaniards tend to live life on a late schedule, which takes some getting used to. Clubs and bars are open until 8 am (yes, you read that right)--in fact, some don't even OPEN until 3--so you go out all night, then come home when the sun rises and sleep til about 2 pm. You wake up, spend the rest of the day at the beach, cook dinner with friends at about 10 pm, and then repeat.

The first night, there was an Erasmus party on the beach, which was really fun; although trying to find your friends in a sea of 1500 foreign exchange students is not as easy as it sounds. Erasmus sounds really great--they take care of EVERYTHING for you on your exchange--where to stay, all your paperwork, language classes if you need them, anything you can think of. North America doesn't have the same resources available (that I know of, at least not when I was applying for my exchange), which is maybe why it's not as popular? Anyways. It's a great deal, and I can see why so many students choose to go on exchange in Europe. After we hung out on the beach for a bit, the party moved to one of the many Erasmus bars in the Barrio, which is the district with all the narrow streets and clubs. It's interesting going out in a smaller city like Alicante, because on the one hand, it still has that European feel with all the old buildings, but then you see the ambulances carting away freshmen that had one too many (or six) and you realize that you are indeed in a university town.

By 3 am, we were ready to dance, so we went to 5 Avenieda (5th Avenue)--they had free sangria and shots every hour on the hour, how could we say no?! We hit the dance floor and had an amazing time--the DJ was on fire with his selection! It's such a nice change from the generic house music that Toronto DJs seem to love...We made it home around 8 am, in time to sleep and do it all over again.

The next afternoon, Anselm and I went up to the castle that overlooks Alicante, which was really great.
Alicantean sunset from the top of the Castilla
We went at sunset, so there was amazing views, and you could see the sun and the moon at the same time! After that, we had some people over to his flat where we made salad and roast chicken, potluck style, and went out in the Barrio, where we ended up at the same club as the night before, but I wasn't complaining.
Me and Anselm sightseeing at the Castilla
Now. It needs to be said that I have not had this much fun going out in YEARS. Why, do you ask? Simple: Spaniards know how to Dance! I mean really dance, not this sleazy, drunken, grab a girl from behind business. I spent the night dancing my best salsa, merengue, and bachata moves with partners that could actually teach me a thing or two--it was great!

REAL Italian Bruschetta

The last night, we went over to Concy, Theresa, and Marie's flat where Concy made spaghetti carbonara and bruscetta for all 12 of us--Italian cooked by an Italian--delicious! We headed home around 12:30 which felt SO EARLY compared to the previous few nights, but it was just perfect.
L-R: Pierpaolo from Italy, Theresa from Germany, Me, Concy from Italy, Laurie-Ann from Paris, and Anselm
I had a great time in Alicante--it was great to kick back and relax into student life one more time, even if only for a few days. I wish I had investigated my exchange options to Spain in my undergrad days--I most certainly would be able to habla Espanol by now! I met some great people on exchange from Italy, France, and Austria, even though the language barrier was difficult to overcome (you just get really good at charades in Spain). Next stop, Barcelona!

Sun and the moon in the same photo--pretty neat!

Tasty Tapas

Sept 8: I woke up in some serious pain this morning, so I staggered down the street to McDonald's (seriously where else do people eat after going out? It's the only logical choice) to rehash the night with some friends from the night before. I met up with Mr. Zimbabwe (I really wanted to call him Cady (Lindsay Lohan's character in Mean Girls, who also grew up in Africa) but I don't think he would find it as funny as I did so I refrained) in the afternoon, and we wandered over to Plaza De Espana and the cathedral (the biggest Gothic Cathedral in the world), although it was so hot we weren't too enthusiastic about anything. The Plaza was really beautiful--it reminded me a lot of the palace in Vienna, except red. One thing I will never get sick of is all the palm trees. Canada, get with the program! You have everything else, heat included. Rule No. 76: No excuses! Play like a champion! I also made my way over to the train station to book my trip to Alicante for the next day.

One problem (among many) with a Eurail pass: - You need reservations for a lot of the trains, which requires you to plan further ahead than you'd maybe like. - Reservations cost extra (on top of the 393 Euros I paid for the pass) - You can't book them online, as there's no aggregated system for the different rail lines Eurail is valid for. Result: Spanglish disaster.

Anyone who says the French are snobbiest when it comes to people not speaking their language have clearly never been to Spain. Coincidentally, I never realized how little Spanish I knew until I arrived. The problem is that unlike every other country I've been to so far, Spanish people don't speak English, and refuse to make things easy for you. There is no slow, simple sentences reserved for foreigners. If you don't speak like they do, tough luck. Now try to imagine explaining the parameters of the Eurail pass you'd like to buy, and that was my afternoon. I start with the customary "Ola! Como estas?" So far so good. I smile apologetically and continue with "No habla Espanol." The ticket cashier stares at me and replies, straight-faced, "No habla Ingles." Okay then. This should be fun. I wanted to book a train to Alicante, which required a change at a certain station. I feel like a senior citizen when I'm booking these tickets, because I'll hear the entire sentence, yet comprehend every seventh word, so it's like putting madlibs together: Train ____ _____ _____ ______ Alicante _____ _____ ____ __ ________ change _____ _____ _____ No ____ _____ _____ Reserva.

Okay. Let me get this straight. You can book me a train to Alicante, but I have to change and you can't reserve me a seat? Good to see my Eurail pass is just teeming with value--I've already spent at least 50 Euros on reservations, on top of the 393 I already paid for the pass. So ridiculous.

That evening, Zimbabwe and I decide to meet up and try some local tapas--our hostel was doing a tapas tour, but after our experience with Raphael we decided we'd try to find better value for our money elsewhere. We settled on a little place called La Mata, which was empty but looked nice inside, and boy am I glad we did.

Easily the best meal I've had my entire trip--I'm so mad I didn't bring my camera with me! For anyone who doesn't know (hopefully none of you), tapas is like little plates of food in really interesting combinations of flavours, designed for sharing. It's really cheap, and really good. It's like building your own tasting menu (which normally costs a fortune).We tried: - Chicken tulips - Mussel tempura - Salmon tartare - Iberian pork shoulder with orange chocolate sauce - Grilled prawns with taboulet (couscous) - Grilled fois gras medallion with caramel sauce - Gin and tonic sorbet - Spanish wine Guess how much that all cost us? A whopping 35 euros. Each of those plates was so expertly put together that it would have easily cost 30 PER PLATE at home in a city like Toronto. The flavor profiles were just incredible. I was so impressed. If that's what the food is like in Spain, I'm never leaving.

After that, I headed back to the hostel to pack because my train left at 7:15 the next morning. Not that my attempt at an early night mattered one bit, as I was staying in a room with 6 other French girls who had no respect for the other six people who were also there. (It seems logical that if the lights are off and it's after midnight, you try to be quiet when entering your room. Mais NON!--lights were flicked on, drunken shouting ensued, as if the rest of us weren't even there. Mind-boggling. I wanted to throw a bottle at their head but I didn't. No pending assault charges, unless the cops can read my mind.) It's been a good time in Seville, but I can't wait to see what Alicante is like!

I'm really glad I went down to Seville, because I'm going to get a taste of three very different Spanish cities. Seville is typical Andalucia; Alicante is a coastal university town, and Barcelona is Barcelona.

So today, I get to Ciudad Real, the city I have to change trains in, and check at the information desk. Through my Spanglish I discover the clerk in Seville did not book me a reservation all the way through, but only to Ciudad Real. Real helpful, buddy. Good thing I checked, or I would've been ticketless on this train--the last thing I need is to be forcibly removed and dumped in a city in the middle of nowhere. Crisis avoided, though, and am on my way to Alicante.

Pub Crawls and Spanglish

Monument to Christopher Columbus Sept 7: get up, take advantage of the free breakfast, head to walking tour organized by the hostel at 11:15. Tour takes about 3 hours; we are dying of heat by the end of it--Seville is HOT if you didn't know. The thermometer read 43 degrees--at 9 am. Tour was interesting, learned a lot of history of the town, but our guide kept telling us how hungover he was and looking at his notes, so he only got 5 Euros from me at the end. Was about 3:30 by the time we got back, so I just walked around town for a bit by the hostel.

Now, in Spain, for a Canadian like me, ordering food is a process; it's a bit like putting a blindfold on and pointing at the menu, since I have no idea what anything means. Every meal is a surprise! Good thing I'm into this whole food adventure, otherwise I could be in for quite a shock (I hear they eat sheep's brains here, no joke--note to self: I should probably learn what that is in Spanish). I tend to just point at whatever I want to have, since I don't know the sentences required for simple tasks like ordering food or buying train tickets. Anyway, I am on the hunt for salad at all times after being deprived of vegetables for two months in Asia, so I stop at a cafe on my way back from the tour. Just my luck, Spain is not big on salad. But they do have Pinchos. Whatever that is. I take a gamble and order one. They sound like a baguette sandwich from what I can decipher. I'm ravenous at this point--I can't wait to tuck into a hearty lunch. It arrives, and it turns out a Pincho is a SLICE of baguette toast with cheese and one lonely anchovy. That's it. (And no salad in sight). I guess that's why it was only 2 euros on the menu...

I took advantage of the meal at the hostel, which was a plate of Mexican food and sangria for 4 euros--not bad! Our hostel was running a pub crawl for 10 Euros and you got four shots included. It sounded like a good deal and lots of people were going, so I decided to do it. Besides, I hadn't been on a pub crawl yet so I thought it would be a good way to meet people. I was right; I met some Australians, a couple of German girls, a Seattle native living in Prague, and a big group from Belgium. Seattle and I decided to teach everyone how to play flip cup, and so began our pub crawl evening. How can you not play flip cup in Spain? You start by singing Ole, Ole Ole Ole for goodness' sake!

The guy leading the pub crawl is the tour guide from this morning...Raphael--and get this--he's a sculptor. I'm not making this up. He put his best Spanish moves on me but I wasn't buying it. ("I'm an artist...maybe I'll show you my work sometime.." I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Raphael. I know exactly what you're up to.)

We headed out at about 11:30 and the crawl was average at best. The first place we went to was empty except for our group; the second place had litre mojitos for 5 Euros, so we ordered, but they took about half an hour to make them and they were the grossest thing I've ever tasted. As a bartender I was offended someone would serve that! (He didn't even muddle the mint leaves...in a MOJITO!) At the next bar I realized, to my dismay, they hadn't given me the proper change at the last place, so to add insult to injury, not only did I have a litre of sugar water, but it cost me about 40 Euros. Not good. The last place we went to, we were told, was a dance club. We get there, and it's a reggae club. People are smoking everywhere inside, and it's just generally sketchy. We decide to peace and walk home. I met an Australian who grew up in Zimbabwe and was full of great stories, so at least the night ended on a good note--until I looked at the clock and realized it was 6:30 am. We literally saw people opening their cafes for breakfast on our way back to the hostel.

Me at the Plaza de Espana

The Train in Spain is Mainly a Pain

(Spain Day 1) See what I did there? Enough with the My Fair Lady references...we are in the land of Carmen! Fun fact: The plot of the opera came from Seville, where a Christian soldier was dating the most beautiful girl in town (Carmen) who dumped him for a bullfighter (way more badass, I'd do the same thing). He went crazy and killed her and her family, felt bad, and killed himself. Typical man...so dramatic. Holding a boom box above his head would have conveyed the same emotion. If you want to get acquainted with the story, Beyonce made a hip-hopera for your viewing pleasure. Youtube it..

I flew from Cairo to Madrid, almost dying of dehydration on the plane (did you know the air in the cabin has less water in its oxygen than the desert? I love the sips of water they ration you every two hours because you can't bring liquids on the plane, like that's going to do anything in this environment...) get to Madrid, still not sure if want to stay or go to the south. After a lengthy conversation with a Spanish couple on the plane, I decide to go to Seville, but need to get to the train station. (Seville, the home of a certain Barber, if you're familiar).

I take a bus from airport and make my way to the ticket counter to buy a Eurail pass. I priced it out and I will end up saving quite a lot by having this pass. I can buy it for only the countries I need, so it costs less than a global pass, and will be much cheaper than buying individual tickets.

I wait in the ticket line only to be told I can't buy a Eurail pass at this train station. I have to take the metro to another station. I manage to navigate this, then decide to take the last train to Sevilla at 21:30. Have been up since 5 am. Get to Seville at 12:05. Haven't booked anything so I head to the first place in my guidebook (side note: Lonely Planet is not the best book for the budget traveler. Their hostel suggestions are lacking--just a general observation. Let's Go is much better, but they don't have as many books).

The taxi driver doesn't know where it is so he drops me in a downtown square saying it's close and points vaguely in one direction--I think he just wanted to get rid of me. Thanks for being concerned about my safety! I wander around for a bit and am not having any luck. I'm going to have to take up residence under a bridge! Finally, I ask some people I overhear speaking English, who take me through dark alleys to an unmarked door I would never have found on my own. Success! Just kidding. I get inside and they're booked. Crap. But he calls their other property and find me a bed there, so I haul my stuff ten mins down the street to the Oasis Palace. Cheesy name but at 1:30 am I just want a flat space to pass out on. Exhausted after a 20 hr travel day, I've made it; I'm in Europe!

Islamic Cairo

Sept 5:

Had another lazy morning while Sarah was at school (seriously I could get used to this) then we met up to go to Khaled al Khalili, aka Islamic Cairo. We wandered through the narrow streets of the marketplace, which really looked straight out of Aladdin. Magic carpet not included. All jokes aside, the architecture was amazing, and we went at the perfect time for photos. I got some great ones, it really felt like I was transported back two thousand years!

We saw an open-air mosque, which they chastised me for not wearing a head scarf but let us in anyway, and learned they held school inside every day. There was a chalkboard built into the wall that was over 600 years old! They asked for money on the way out, which kind of goes against the idea of a mosque, I would think, but who knows.

The marketplace was buzzing. Apparently this is where everyone goes at night in Cairo! Really cool. On the way back, we passed by some locals eating a dish called Kushari, which Sarah explained to me, is rice, macaroni, lentils, fried onions, and tomato sauce. The Egyptian girls saw me looking at their food and offered to let me try some! I obliged, and they invited us to sit and have a bowl with them, so we did! Ola and Heda were cousins who live in Cairo, and they were very interested in talking to a Westerner to improve their English. They were so nice--they even paid for our dinner. After we parted ways, Sarah took me to this free show to see the Whirling Dervishes. It's a traditional Sufi cultural dance, where they play cultural music and this one guy turns on the spot for at least half an hour. He never falls, he stays on the same spot, and spins this huge colourful skirt around in different patterns the entire time, while portraying the story the singer is telling. I have no idea how he doesn't get dizzy. It was really impressive. It was in this open-air courtyard with ancient archways and great lighting. After taking my turn on stage (how could I not?) we headed back home for some Campari and sleep. I had an incredible time in Cairo, and wish I had longer! Alas, Europe is beckoning. Sarah was an amazing host, though, and I can't thank her enough for putting me up and showing me her city!

Museums and Mummies

Sept 4: Cairo Day 2
Sarah had her first day of school today, so I took a lazy morning walk through Zamalek, which is an island in the middle of the Nile, then navigated the metro to Tahrir Square, the site of the protests that were fundamental to the revolution. It's totally different now--no indication that anything happened, except for the shoulder to shoulder police that stand guard 24/7 in a circle. Upon closer inspection, none of them are older than 16. I guess that's what happens when your president steps down and you clean house.
Tahrir Square
It's really interesting talking with Sarah about the revolution, because she was living in Cairo at the time. Some of her stories are just incredible--how her and her friends all slept in the living room together, with stones propped up against the door so they'd hear if someone tried to get in; what it was like when Mubarak cut the internet and phones; really fascinating stuff. I'm really happy she convinced me to come visit--Cairo is a great city--more modern than I thought it would be--and it's totally safe now. There were some protests while I was there at the trial of Mubarak (apparently the police had to restrain lawyers from the defense and prosecution from physically fighting in the courtroom), but they were localized to the court, which was far from where Sarah lives.

She actually is just moving apartments, and we visited the new one, which is in a word, BALLIN'. It's basically a sprawling 3 bedroom penthouse in Zamalek, with balconies overlooking the Nile, and she has it all to herself, for the price of a 500 square foot studio in Toronto. I'm so jealous.

I found lunch at KFC although it was definitely not what I ordered (I really need to remember not to order anything spicy in Egypt) and made my way over to the Egyptian museum. Not sure what their endgame was, but I had various people come up to me and tell me "the museum is closed for prayer right now! Opens at 1:30!" Next person, same thing, except their time was 3:30. Suspicious...especially because it was open the entire time.

A British guy came up to me at the entrance and offered to split the cost of a tour guide, so I used my (now expert) haggling skills and got an hour for 40 pounds (about 8 bucks, so 4 each). Little did we know how big the museum is--we ended up on a speed walking tour of the museum. I felt like I had joined a mall-walking club. Should've brought my tracksuit.

Saw King Tut's relics--that guy had EVERYTHING in his tomb! (Seriously, who needs 4 chariots? In case one breaks down? Seems a little excessive to me, sounds like he could've used a financial advisor)

Sprung for the extra ticket to the mummy exhibit (Student card half price, whattup!) which was really interesting. Having seen the burning ghats at Varanasi, it wasn't as grotesque as I think some people found it. What I found incredible is the perfect detail that has been preserved after all these years--the mummies still have their eyelashes! They really do look like they're just sleeping. There was also an animal mummy exhibit which was cool--they took their pets with them when they were put in the tomb.
After the tour, Sarah and I took a sunset felucca ride on the Nile. A felucca is an Egyptian sailboat, although I suspect they've done some upgrades of the years, as it was not the reed raft with papyrus sail that I was envisioning. Nevertheless, it was the perfect time to do it--gorgeous views, a nice breeze, and the air was just cooling off from the heat of the day. I thought it was great!
We headed to an Arabian restaurant for dinner that would have included pigeon and camel meat but they were out. For shame! My culinary adventures would have to be put on hold. I settled for stuffed intestines instead.

Canada Dry, Never Die

Total hours in Cairo so far: 17Number of marriage proposals: 28 Number of gifts: 3 Number of gifts possibly hiding concealed narcotics: 2

Sept 2/3 I arrived in Cairo at night, after my plane was delayed in Doha. I dodged a proposal from the airport clerk (in exchange for a free visa, tough call...) collected my bag, and met my friend Sarah and her boyfriend Bilal, who were picking me up. I've known Sarah since I was little, even though she's from Germany, as she also works with the same charity in India, so we kind of grew up together. She even came and stayed with my family in Canada a few years ago!

They took me to this fish restaurant on the Nile (literally on a boat in the river, so cool! There's a ton of places like it along the river) where we selected our seafood like you would in a marketplace, then the chef weighs and makes it. Had amazing spreads and dips with bread, soup, salad, shrimp, calamari, and the fish. So much food! It was a feast. But a delicious one. I don't think many dishes can top freshly caught seafood. Move over, Red Lobster (except your biscuits, they can stay).

The next morning, Sarah had to go into her school (she teaches at the German International school in Cairo--the public system in Egypt is so bad that they have private International schools everywhere, so anyone who can afford it gets sent there), so Bilal took me to get falafel for breakfast, which was amazing. I can't believe I thought I wouldn't like it! And handy, too; it comes in a sort of pita so you can grab it and go. McDonald's, girl please.

After making sure I had enough water to last, he dropped me at the pyramids. I cannot stress this enough: if you have a student card, bring it! Everywhere! (The only catch is that because I have no date on my student card (unlike an ISIC card, which you have to pay for), certain sticklers at ticket windows won't accept it. But I've gotten away with it more times than not, so it's worth a shot for sure.) You never know where you can get a discount, and it never hurts to ask. Case in point: Entrance to the pyramids: 100 pounds. With student card: 30. Boom.

Alright. Going to the pyramids is exhausting. Luckily, I had just come from India, so I was prepared for the touts hounding you every step of the way. It's the blonde hair! I can't hide--they spot me from a mile away! Egyptians will come up and ask to take a photo with you, so I was back in celeb mode all over again. That much I was at least used to from my time in India. But Egyptians take it up a notch. When I take off my sunglasses and they see blue eyes, I'm really in for it. That's when the gifts start coming. I now have in my possession: a mock Sphinx, a model of the pyramids (to scale), and a papyrus painting. Not a bad haul.

Bilal warned me they can be quite pushy, so I was ready for anything. Instantly, someone came up to me and assured me they worked there, so it was fine. I repeated my standard "La shukran", or "No Thank You", but they're persistent. I make it clear that I'm not paying them for whatever they're offering, but they continue anyways. I figure that's my disclaimer; if I tell them I won't pay and they choose to give me info about the history, or take pictures for me, that's their problem for not listening. You have to stick to your guns and be ruthless, though! It's funny seeing the system they have--at the end, I start walking away, and they say "hey! what about a tip? I told you so much stuff, took photos, etc." Then they try to suggest what the "Standard" tip is--20-50 pounds..such a joke. Trying to guilt trip me into giving them money! I stand my ground and shrug, "Sorry! I told you I wouldn't pay for this and you kept going anyway! Not my problem." They get mad, but I think they're more angry that their little scam didn't work on the hapless little blonde girl. Ha! Don't mess with this seasoned traveler.

The rules in the pyramids are inconsistent at best. To go inside the big pyramid, no cameras are allowed--yet I saw at least 5 others with cameras once I was in the tomb. In another area, however, the guard let me walk right by the sign that said no cameras, because I was Canadian. No joke. They all ask where I'm from, and every time I tell them, they go "Canada Dry! Never die!" What?! such a random thing to say!

An FYI: the pyramids are HOT inside. The corridors were built for midgets at best, or I guess the average height of Egyptians back then, but it means you have to walk up crazy narrow ramps, bent in half. There's little to no airflow. It's cool to say you've been inside, but it's really not that exciting. What's a little sweat if you get to wear the police officer's hat at the end?

The tombs surrounding the pyramids were way more interesting--you can see a ton of hieroglyphs. In true tourist fashion, I decided to take a camel ride into the desert to get a good view of the pyramids (and photos, because let's be real, that's half the reason anyone goes out there). I haggled my way down from 130 to 60 pounds, and refused my camel owner's attempt to extract more as a tip from me. A price is a price, bud! Really touristy thing to do, but I'm so glad I ponied up the cash (pun intended, ahaha).

I saw the sphinx after that, which was really awesome. It's smaller than I thought it would be, but the setup is neat--because it's sort of dug out of the ground, there's no fence or anything, just the edge, so you can take great photos. Minimizes the touristy feeling a bit, which is more than can be said for the pyramids themselves.

Another guide, Mohamed, came up to me and offered to take some photos. I did my usual speech about not paying, but for once, he actually didn't want money. He offered to show me some of the less busy tombs behind the sphinx that tourists don't really know about, so next thing I know, I'm clambering down stone steps into a dark cavern where they used to perform mummifications (the stone slabs are still there, creepy!). I did have a thought that maybe Mohamed had a more sinister reason for bringing me to a deserted tomb, but luckily all was fine and he was just a friendly tour guide. I got to see some interesting tombs, completely alone, and felt like I got to see a hidden part of Giza.

Last, Bilal met up with me and we saw the boat museum. Basically, in the 1920s, archaeologists discovered these massive boats buried beneath the surface right beside the pyramids. Turns out, these were the boats used to transport the stones used to build the pyramids up the Nile. They were buried next to the pyramids as a means of transportation for the afterlife. The museum is a funny concept--they raised the boat straight out of the ground and built a building around it so they never had to move it. And you have to wear these ridiculous slippers to prevent sand from eroding the boat (or something, they didn't exactly explain why they handed me burlap sacks for my feet).

When we got back to Sarah's, she was napping, so Bilal convinced me to do a video workout with him called Insanity. It is exactly that--40 minutes of cardio torture. Suicides, jump squats, pushups, football run thingys, mummy kicks (obv, we're in Egypt), mountain climbers, you name it, we did it. I could not move after it was over. Apparently it's a two month program with a different video everyday. I actually think I might check it out when I get home--I love that feeling of having nothing left after a workout! (My body, however, will disagree with me when trying to go down stairs for the next few days)

We went for sushi that night (my first sushi in 2 months, I cannot even tell you how excited I was for this--sushi is definitely my favorite food, I could eat it every day) and being the resident sushi expert, Sarah and Bilal let me explain a few things. Little did I know that this sushi place liked to use hot sauce instead of wasabi to spice things up. My spicy salmon, salad, and most other things were just about unbearable to eat, but it was too late to go back. Never again. I will ALWAYS ask to clarify this from now on, lesson learned.

A great first day in Cairo. Going to the Egyptian Museum tomorrow, can't wait to see some ancient treasure (and a few old folks--5000 years, give or take).

Do Something Crazy

The Last Resort: August 31
On the bridge before the big jump! Apparently my appetite for adventure wasn't satisfied by paragliding, because guess what I signed up for today? My thrill-seeking tour of Nepal took me to new heights (to the Tibetan border to be exact) for a day of canyoning (rappelling down waterfalls--7 to be exact) and...wait for it...bungee jumping.

Canyoning, and...bungee jumping. That's right. Because hurling myself off a mountain wasn't enough, I'm changing venues to a bridge. And going head-first. And it's non-refundable, so I have to jump. Good lord. James decided to do an overnight hike in the mountains, so I was on my own for this particular adventure.

Yes. This gal right here faced her fear of heights (seriously--I get dizzy if I stand on a chair in my living room) and signed up to jump off a suspension bridge in the middle of a gorge, more than 160 metres in the air, with raging waters below.

I met a med student from Norway (read: McSteamy) on the bus ride there who was also doing the jump for the first time, and we talked the whole way, which didn't give me time to get nervous about what I was about to do.

I had a full day so I wasn't sure which activity I would be doing first--the jump or the canyoning. Luckily, they gave me no time to think and called my name as the first person of the day to jump.

It wasn't so bad on the bridge itself, although it may have helped that I didn't look down once while crossing. Once I was in the middle of the bridge, getting my ankles strapped into a harness that would be my only lifeline preventing me from falling to my death in the river below, the flutters began in my stomach.

"Breathe in, breathe out, and look out at the gorgeous scenery around me," is what I kept telling myself. It's a really interesting exercise in managing your fear, because logically I know nothing can happen--this isn't going to hurt, it's safe, lots of people do it--but that doesn't stop your mind from going crazy thinking of the worst case scenarios.

Once your ankles are strapped together, you penguin-walk your way over to the jumping platform and the bungee cord is secured to your harness. The scariest part of the jump, in my opinion, is the fact that you have to jump head-first. there's no tentativeness allowed here (just my luck).
The jumping platform...see? It's not so scary til you look down. I step out onto the platform and my wall of fear-control disintegrates, and panic takes over. You know that feeling of dread when you get caught red-handed telling a lie? That's the best way for me to describe what it feels like to be on that edge, half listening to the instructions, half thinking about what you want your last words to be. I hear the instructions come to an end, and the guy counts down: "Three, two, one, JUMP!" My legs are frozen. I can't do it. I literally can't make my body perform the motion necessary to move forward.
The last thing I saw before I jumped. He cajoles me closer to the edge, and I am convinced he is trying to make me walk off the edge. "No, I don't think I can do this" I say to him. He reassures me the longer I'm up there the worse it gets...and he's totally right. I take a deep breath, I think about all the scary things that could happen, decide to listen to the part that's trusting everything will work out, and tip forwards into nothingness (a swan dive was out of the question--my legs were jelly).
Me, mid-jump...proof I actually did it! The best way I can describe it is terror combined with elation--so basically what you feel when you go down that first big hill on a roller coaster. The feeling of falling is amplified because you have this narrow canyon wall on both sides of you, and you're watching the angry rapids of the river get closer and closer until suddenly you're being yanked upwards at the last second. Floating through the air, you're so disoriented that the feeling of falling has disappeared, and you're laughing because you can't believe you just did that, and it feels great.

Then you feel the ankle straps move, and terror seizes you again in full force. LOGICALLY, I know I was strapped in tight and wasn't going anywhere. But show me someone who is thinking logically while falling at 150 km/h. I thought I was going to survive the big jump, only to have my harness come loose on the after-bounces and die in the river anyway. How anti-climactic.

I'm flexing my feet for dear life, praying i stay in long enough to be brought down to safety, and finally I'm on solid ground. I have so much adrenaline that I can't stand right away--my legs are too shaky, and I'm laughing so hard I'm crying. It really makes you crazy!

A nice guy I met on the bus (Ash from Nepal, whattup!) was kind enough to take a few photos for me, but I also bought the DVD (as proof that I really did it, because I know I probably won't even believe it in a few years). They had to mail it home to Canada since I left early the next day, but when I get it, you'd better believe you will get to witness the hilarity of a little blonde girl tipping herself off the ledge of a suspension bridge.

Luckily, I had a half-hour hike back up the canyon to get back to the lodge to come down off my adventure high--they definitely fail to mention that part in the brochure--and prepare for my next activity, canyoning (which I cannot BELIEVE I spent money on Crocs for--so disgusted with myself). I changed into my gear--wetsuit, helmet, and Crocs..ugh...and found myself hiking the same trail I had just come up from bungee jumping!
My canyoning gear...minus the heinous atrocity that are Crocs...I was afraid they'd crack my lens if photographed

Canyoning was a change of pace from the morning's adrenaline rush; we rappelled down seven waterfalls of varying heights--I think the biggest was 47 metres. It was fun, but slow since we were a group of 10 and had to wait for everyone to do it one at a time. You get soaked, no way around it, and it made for some great views. At some parts we could even watch others doing their bungee jumps.

All in all, it was a busy, exhausting, exhilarating day, and I wouldn't change it for anything.

Today was one of the best days of my life.